


Patience Pays Off (Even for Prats)

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alliteration, Challenge Response, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Multi, St. Patrick's Day, Threesome - F/M/M, Word Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has been waiting for five long years to approach Hermione. When Harry invites him over to share a pint, he discovers that patience really does pay off… but in the most unexpected ways (a Saint Patrick's Day P-word challenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience Pays Off (Even for Prats)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by LiterarySpell
> 
> This is a response to Pitt Witch's "Pitt's Perfectly Pugnacious Proposition" in honor of Saint Patrick's Day. The challenge required a perilously short piece featuring any pairing that must include only the following things: 1. Pub(s) 2. Pints 3. Penises 4. Penetration 5. And as many "P" words as possible. Bonuses were awarded for the inclusion and creative use of kilts, rainbows, pots of gold, leprechauns or snakes.

It was Saint Patrick’s Day and Draco Malfoy had just broken off his engagement to Astoria Greengrass. Looking for a little peace from his bickering family and former in-laws-to-be, he found himself in the back of a pub nursing a glass of green beer. Harry Potter had recently purchased the old place, renaming it Padfoot’s Pub in posthumous honour of his godfather. Draco wouldn’t have even thought to step foot inside this particular pub if he hadn't thought that _she_ would be there. 

But she was. 

Perfect, pristine, proper Hermione Granger was present and in plain sight, sitting only a few tables away with her best mate, Pottymouth himself, and her boyfriend, the clueless ginger pauper. For the past hour, Draco had been sneaking peeks at her from his dark corner parlour booth.

As the Trio poured their drinks and laughed, Draco pondered what it would be like to talk to her. Properly, that is. No insults, no threats. A civil discussion between two prominent, professional people. He imagined they would have good conversation; perhaps it would even be sexy. 

Although he would never admit it to anyone, there were many nights when Draco would wank thinking of her pouty lips pressed against his ear, praising him for becoming a better man. That usually preceded her sucking on his prick—at her insistence, of course.

Deep down inside he knew it was a pathetic fantasy. For the past five years, practically since the very day the war had ended, many moments had passed, but none of them were ever perfect enough for him to approach her. He was certain Hermione still had plenty of pent up resentment about his piss-poor treatment of her and her friends during their prepubescent years. That presumption alone stood between them like the great pond itself. 

So for now, the past was still present and all he could do was postulate the possibilities of what could be.

He grimaced as he watched Harry push his chair back and rise to walk over to his parlour booth. The poster boy for everything pure and right then proceeded to invite Draco over to share a pint with them. Harry even pointed out that Draco’s drink would be free and placed on Harry’s tab. Draco was offended; leave it to Harry to be presumptuous and arrogant enough to assume Draco didn’t want to pay for himself. 

Draco pursed his lips and took a prolonged sip of his green beer, making Harry stand by awkwardly, waiting for a reply. 

It pained Draco that the most famous person in the wizarding world was also the least perceptive and unable to take a polite hint that his company was not wanted. Draco felt he had no choice but to be prudent and plainly rude. 

“Piss off, Potter.” 

Harry gave him a pitying shake of his head. “My mistake, Malfoy. I thought perhaps, after five years, you had possibly matured, but it’s obvious you’re still quite the prat.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Draco retorted. “And you're still a press-seeking primadonna with a pretty fucked up martyr complex. Not to mention, right now, you’re positively pissed.” 

Harry didn’t scowl or frown. Instead, he proceeded to lean over and peer down at Draco so that he could whisper, “Yeah, so what if I am, prick? Being pissed is a right better state than sitting all alone in a crowded pub like a piece of poop on a pogo stick.”

“What the hell is a pogo stick?” Draco asked in bewilderment.

Harry burped without apology. “Forget it, Malfoy, it’s a Muggle thing. Later.”

When Harry turned his back, panic rose in Draco’s chest. What a proud fool he was! He had just rejected a once in a lifetime invitation to sit with her and prove once and for all that he wasn’t the prick she probably thought he still was.

“Wait, Potter… if you insist, I’ll join you.”

Harry appeared briefly perplexed about Draco’s change of mind, but was smiling lopsidedly a moment later. “Come on, then.”

Draco followed and pulled a chair over to sit right beside Hermione. It was then that Ron’s face turned pallid and he pinched his nose up like he had gotten whiff of something most putrid.

“What’s he doing here?” he protested.

“Ron, don’t start,” Harry said. “I invited him over to share a pint.”

“You have a problem with that, Weasley?” Draco prodded.

“Yeah, I do.” Ron pouted. “You can’t come prancing over here, sharing our pint—not after all of the pain you’ve put us through. Don’t you have something better to do? Like primping in front of the mirror or whatever it is poufs like you do. “

“Oh, Ron, stop being pugnacious. For once, please try to be polite,” Hermione said, giving Draco a flirtatious smile. 

Draco stomach fluttered momentarily before he turned to Ron and smirked. “Yeah, Weasley, don’t be a party pooper.” 

“Put a sock in it, you pretentious ponce,” Ron gritted.

Harry poured Draco a glass from their pitcher and then another one for himself. Draco glanced at it suspiciously as if it were poison, but when Hermione batted her eyes and took a sip of her own, Draco sipped also.

A pretty blonde waitress sashayed over to check in on them, and Draco noticed that Ron didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t checking her out. Draco studied Hermione’s reaction and was surprised to find that she seemed peculiarly at peace with her supposed boyfriend’s peeping.

Draco continued to watch her until her eyes finally caught his. His mouth went dry and his pulse quickened. The perfect moment seemed to be at hand. He willed his tongue to untie itself so that he could proffer a compliment. 

“Hermione, you look great. Quite pretty, really.” 

Hermione paused before choking a little on her drink. When she began to cough, Harry slid his chair over to pat her back. Draco could feel Ron’s predatory stare set on him; he looked like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione choked out. “Draco, did you just call me pretty?” 

“I’m positive I did not stutter,” Draco said. 

“Well, thank you, that’s very nice of you to say,” she said after collecting herself. “I don’t recall you ever being so polite.”

Draco pushed up his sleeves and took another sip of his beer. “That’s because I’m not. I am picky though, so believe me, when I say you’re pretty, I’m not being pleasant for the sake of propriety.” 

Their eyes locked in a heated stare, and Draco decided to push a little further. His tongue slid out slowly, licking his bottom lip. He saw her swallow and squirm a little as light perspiration broke on her forehead. She quickly fanned a petite hand at her face as if sick with fever. 

“Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?” she asked.

Draco smirked, his interest doubly piqued. The sight of her becoming so flustered made his prick twitch. Was she just as affected by him as he was by her? If only he could hear her plead for him to fuck her just once. 

He gave her another prolonged glance and threw in a pompous smile for added effect. She blushed once more, but swiftly played it off by averting her eyes and taking a long sip of her drink. 

Next to her, Harry placidly watched their interaction with intermittent snickering while Ron persisted in his efforts to pin Draco down with an evil glare.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Cool your pants, Weasley. I’m just paying the lady a compliment. I know she’s probably spoken for.”

“Probably? She’s definitely spoken for,” Ron said possessively.

“Ronald!” Hermione gritted out in a fierce but hushed whisper.

“What, ‘Mione? You _are_ spoken for! Twice ova’, I might add… oh, shite!” Ron grimaced at his apparent slip of the tongue.

“Twice over?” Draco pressed, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. 

Ron huffed and gave both Hermione and Harry a pitiful apologetic glance. Hermione looked perturbed, but there was a devilish grin painted on Harry’s face and he appeared quite pleased with Ron’s mistake.

“Just great, Ron!” Hermione scolded. “Why don’t you just make a public proclamation about it now that you’ve gone and let the proverbial cat out of the bag!” 

“Ah, come on, ‘Mione! You know I ‘ave trouble keepin’ my mouth shut when I’m this plastered. Blame it on ‘arry. He should ‘ave never invited da prat over ‘ere,” Ron defended before burping.

“I don’t think the liquor or Malfoy has anything to do with your runaway mouth, Ron,” Harry said, chuckling.

“Shut it, ‘arry,” Ron grumbled.

Casting a precipitous glance around the table, Draco noted the dare in Harry’s eyes, Ron’s pink ears, and Hermione’s flushed cheeks. But when she glanced up at him again, there was a playful invitation in her eyes that made his pecker rise a little.

“Pardon me, I don’t mean to pry,” Draco started tentatively. “But I’ll be perspicuous and phrase this question plainly. What exactly does Weasley mean when he says you’re spoken for twice over?” 

Hermione glanced around the table, gripping her glass with both hands before speaking. “What Ron means is that, at the moment, I’m pursuing a relationship with two blokes.” 

Draco’s eyes widened. The idea of the prissy, prim and proper Hermione Granger doing a Pansy Parkinson and dating two blokes at the same time was positively shocking.

“Two?” Draco asked.

Hermione pulled her chin up proudly. “Yes, two. And stop looking at me like I’ve done something profane. Two is a respectable number. It’s not as if I’m running about town like a promiscuous tart.” 

Draco realized he probably appeared somewhat prudish and judgmental, but felt compelled to probe just a little more. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, who?”

“Who do you think, tosspot?” Ron growled.

With dawning perception, Draco’s eyes darted back and forth between Harry and Ron and then back to Hermione. “Weasley _and_ Potter? But I thought you and Potter were platonic?” 

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and then Harry smacked his hand down on the table. “I’m still parched! Who wants another pint?”

Ron gave Harry a small smile. “Definitely me.”

“Count me in, too,” Hermione said.

Draco watched in amazement as Hermione gulped down the remaining contents of her glass. His picture perfect preconceptions about the former Gryffindor Princess were splintering into a million pieces by the minute. As she puckered up for another sip, nasty thoughts of pushing his cock between her lips popped into his head. 

“I’ll stay for another as well,” he said. 

They all drank the next pint in silence while people all around them laughed, talked, and sang Saint Patrick's Day songs. Draco could feel himself becoming more pissed by the minute and his mind began to wander. He wondered how exactly Hermione pleasured herself with two men. Did she enjoy double penetration? Perhaps she liked to suck on one prick while another pummelled her sweet arse. The possibilities caused a strain in his pants.

He stole another look at her. Oh, yes, she was absolutely prime for fucking. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair lush, and she had a perfect pert pair of tits that provoked the porniest schoolboy fantasies. He imagined pulling her by the hair to his bed, where he’d tie her up and fill her tight pussy until she begged him to stop.

He couldn’t help but to groan at the thought.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, concerned. 

Draco simply nodded, holding his tongue. His penis was aching for proper attention and relief. He was going to have a good wank tonight. 

He and the Trio put away several more glasses and then ordered another pint. 

“So I guess yer no longa’ prejudiced ‘gainst Muggle-borns, eh, Malfoy?” Ron slurred slyly.

“What are you on about, Weasel?” Draco asked, peering at the redhead in suspicion.

“I saw you ova’ there... pretending not to look at ‘er. But it was obvious,” Ron proclaimed matter-of-factly.

“Ron, your mouth—shut it, now!” Hermione insisted.

Ron ignored her, and his grin widened as he leaned over to point a wavering finger in Draco’s face. “I saw ya sneaking peeks at ‘Mione. I bet ya fancy ‘er, don’t you? That’s why ya came ova’ when ‘arry invited ya, isn’t it?”

“It’s a bloody pub, Weasley,” Draco retorted. “People come here to drink and to be seen. Besides, it’s my prerogative to look at whom I like. Stop acting like a paranoid pillock.” 

“Uh huh,” Ron muttered, taking another sip. Draco looked over at Harry, who seemed oblivious to their interactions and particularly interested in his drink. 

“Ron, please stop posturing. Did you forget our agreement?” Hermione asked ominously.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, wondering what exactly they had agreed to, when Ron leaned back to peer up the ceiling as if he were pondering some abstract philosophical concept.

Just the sight of Ron Weasley trying to think hard about anything made Draco laugh out loud. The Trio all stared at him in question.

He shrugged it off and took another sip of his drink.

“So it’s true, then? Is that the real reason ‘arry asked him over?”

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced at Draco. “Ron, please…”

“I should have known. Does it have to be _him_ , ‘Mione?” Ron whined.

Draco glanced at Hermione, but she gave him a forced smile before looking away.

Ron snorted. “I’m definitely goin’ to get plastered now. Hope to be passed out by midnight. Until then, I suppose drinkin’ a pint with the second biggest prat to come out of Slytherin isn’t goin’ to kill me.”

Draco had no idea what Ron was going on about, but he couldn’t help but give the man a perfunctory smirk. “I’m impressed, Weasley. You actually show some potential for behaving like an adult.”

“Don’t push it, Malfoy,” Ron threatened.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute… if I’m the second biggest prat, pray tell, who is the first?”

“Who do you think?” Ron whispered furiously. “You-Know-Who!”

“Voldemort!” Harry corrected loudly, bringing the entire pub to a hush so quiet they could have heard a pin drop. 

Dozens of faces paled in fear and perplexed eyes stared back at them at the mention of the deceased Dark Lord. Draco swallowed, staring daggers at Harry for saying the name and putting up such a scene. 

Ron looked around, his ears going pink again, as he tried to laugh it off. “Is dead! Old Snakeface is dead and gone! Isn’t that what you meant to say, Harry?”

Harry nodded promptly. “Er, yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Ron pushed back his chair and stumbled to his feet, lifting his glass high as if to propose a toast. “To Harry, for saving us all!” 

Draco rolled his eyes. He couldn’t take another Potter love fest professing admiration for the overrated brat. It was killing his buzz.

There was a hearty uproar as people all around them raised their pints in honour of Harry. After many more phonetically incomprehensible toasts and slurred praises, the pub resumed its laughter and singing and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“Good play, Weasley,” Draco said, giving the young man a rare smile. 

Ron smirked. “I’ve become proficient at that. You’d think after almost twenty years, ‘arry would know better than to say You-Know-Who’s name out loud in public.”

Harry scoffed. “I’m not afraid to say his name.” 

“We know,” Draco, Ron, and Hermione all exclaimed before breaking out into snickers. 

Their snickers turned to laughter, and even Harry had to chuckle in spite of himself. Draco laughed so hard, his sides began to hurt. He never thought it would feel so good to laugh _at_ Harry _with_ Harry, Hermione, and Ron. It felt wonderful and more than a little surreal, like he’d taken some sort of illegal potion or drug. The thought only made him laugh harder. 

After their laughter finally subsided, a new comfort settled amongst them, and they ordered another pint. 

“Speaking of snakes,” Ron said. “Perhaps I should and go empty mine.” 

When Ron returned from the loo, their private party resumed and a fifth and sixth pint were ordered. They drank and drank until all their pupils had dilated. In his drunkenness, Draco began to feel precarious. The great and powerful and Potter was sitting so close, and he was vulnerable. He had to take advantage of the moment. And so he reached into the bowl of peanuts that had been placed in the middle of the table and pitched one at Harry’s head.

“Oi, Malfoy! What did you do that for?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to.”

Harry rubbed the spot where the peanut had struck him like a Bludger had hit him. 

“Poor Potter, does it hurt?” Draco asked mockingly.

“No, prat,” Harry spat. “But are you happy now?” 

“Yes.” Draco smiled. “Actually, I found that pretty satisfying.”

“Prick,” Harry muttered.

Instantly, Draco felt a small measure of remorse. He had come over here to prove he wasn’t a prick and things had been going fairly well, and then he just had to go and muck it up by plucking peanuts at Potter’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Potter, I don’t know what came over me. I’m actually enjoying your company.”

“Don’t patronize me, Ferret.” 

“Please, I would never. I’m serious. You’re not a bad lot, really,” Draco admitted.

Harry reached into the bowl of peanuts and threw a few at Draco’s face. Draco balked and Harry smirked playfully. “You’re not so bad yourself, Malfoy.” 

Ron sighed. “Well, isn’t this all peaches, rainbows, and daises? Does this mean you two are going to pucker up and kiss now?”

Harry reached in the bowl of peanuts and grabbed another handful before pushing the bowl towards Draco, who did the same. They exchanged a brief knowing glance before throwing the peanuts at Ron’s head. 

“Hey!” Ron cried in indignation.

Hermione giggled at all of them. 

Draco tried to watch her out of his peripheral, waiting for her to look at him again. When she did, he promptly met her gaze with a piercing stare that made her smile and blush once more. It was like a dose of Pepper-Up potion; it percolated a spark within his soul. The need to apologize welled within his gut and pushed its way up his throat. 

Pulling his chair closer to the table, he prepared to profess the one thing he’d been waiting five years to tell her. 

Hermione was most perceptive and purposefully leaned in, poised and silent as she waited for Draco to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Sorry for what?” she asked coyly.

“For being a bigoted prat. All those years. It’s just that… well, you were so bloody perfect and I wasn’t…”

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yes, you were. A prat, that is. But I wonder, is this really you apologizing, Draco, or is the alcohol speaking?”

“Perhaps both,” Draco admitted.

Hermione nodded. “I see. Well, to be perfectly honest, none of us were very mature back then, were we? We didn’t know what you were going through. It must have been a pretty rotten time for you.”

“Oh, boo hoo!” Ron jeered. “Go peddle that shite elsewhere, Malfoy.”

“Ron, he’s apologizing!”

“Oh, right, ‘Mione, and by all means, lend him your bleeding heart. He’s not at fault. Let him blame it on Mummy and Daddy.”

“Look, I’m not going to blame my parents for my predicament. My mistakes were my own, and I regret them. I just hope you will accept my apology for being such a prick… to all of you,” he said quietly. 

There was another extended silence and then Hermione smiled, placing her hand over his. “It would be petty for us to refuse your apology, Draco. Thank you for saying that.”

Draco was rendered practically speechless. Forgiveness—Hermione’s gift was a priceless one. He wanted to pick her up and twirl her around as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“And for the record, Draco,” she practically purred. “You wear contrition very well.”

“That’s not contrition he’s wearin’,” Ron slurred. “That’s make-up.”

Harry snickered and Draco gave them both a prickly glare that was cut short when he felt two plump lips brushing against his cheek. 

He gasped. Hermione Granger had just kissed him in front of her both of her lovers! 

“What was that for?” Draco asked as he thought of the Pensieve he could use to relive the moment. 

“For playing nice. I think I like you, Draco. What do you say we forget about the past and just start over?” Hermione proposed. 

Ron burped again. “I thought that’s what we’ve been pretending to do this whole time.”

The clapping in the pub became more pronounced, and they all looked over to the right where a portly short bit of a man, no bigger than a pygmy, wearing a tiny kilt, was dancing a jig on top of a table. Onlookers cheered him on, clapping and singing around him. 

“Wouldja look at that?” Ron said. “Now that’s a person who knows how to celebrate Saint Patty’s day properly!”

Draco scoffed. “Right, because he’s practically a leprechaun himself. I bet he’s hiding a pot of gold in that portly belly of his.”

Harry and Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned. “I can’t believe you three, making fun of pygmies. They’re real people, and unfairly picked on, I might add.”

“Oh, come on, Granger,” Draco said. “We’re just playing.”

“That’s right,” Ron agreed. “Don’t get yourself up all worked up in a paddy.”

Harry shrugged. “Besides, ‘Mione, it is Saint Patty’s day. I’m sure he’d probably take being called a leprechaun as a compliment.” 

They all returned their eyes to the show, and one by one, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Draco began to partake in the festivities, clapping with the crowd as the “leprechaun man” danced on. They tried to sing the parts they understood of the Irish songs being sung and continued to pour more drinks, until finally, a very paggered Ron puttered out. He slouched over the table, laying his head down.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance and then stood up to lift him. 

“Let’s get you home, mate,” Harry said. “Looks like you’re going to need some Please-Don’t-Puke potion and a nice tall glass of pumpkin juice so you can sleep it off.” 

Draco watched with increasing petulance as Harry put Ron’s arm around his shoulder and Hermione struggled to do the same on the other side. Unsurprisingly, the redhead had ruined a perfectly good evening, the only good evening Draco had had in several years.

“Pardon, but does this mean you guys are going home?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, we probably should be heading back to the pad. It’s getting pretty late and believe me, you don’t want to be around when Ron starts puking.”

Draco promptly rose to his feet. “Let me help. He’s a rather ponderous bloke.”

“Oh, Draco, what a propitious offer. Harry, what do you think?" she asked, giving her lover a most peculiar smile.

Harry gave Hermione a perilous smirk that Draco could not decipher. “Sure. Let’s all be off.” 

They stepped into the Floo of the pub and came out inside a great hearth. Draco only had to peer into the pitch dark a moment before Hermione spelled the lights on. He and Harry carried Ron back to the bedroom with Hermione on their heels. They gently laid Ron down on the bed and then Hermione promptly knelt before him to remove his trainers. 

Ron tried to roll over. 

“Not so fast,” Hermione said, petting his forehead. “You need to take your potion first.” 

Draco frowned as she gave Ron his potion and continued to pamper the man. Sitting on the other side, Harry leaned over and placed a kiss on his best mate’s forehead.

Draco felt petty jealousy prying its way into his heart. Why did Ron always get all of the attention and love? Draco had always pined for such affection. Ron had always had better friends and better lovers, like Hermione. Hell, with his flushed cheeks and brilliant green eyes, even Harry was more pleasing to the eyes than some of boring phony pure-blood bints Draco had dated. 

A shudder ran through his spine. Was he turning into a pouf? No, it had to be the alcohol. 

As Draco stared down at the Trio on top of their huge bed, pictures of the three of them engaged in all sorts of debauchery began to play in his head, until Hermione’s pink polished manicured hands pulled him down next to her. She and Harry positioned Ron horizontally to give them all more room.

Draco’s eyes darted from Ron, to Hermione, and then Harry. What did they expect of him? Was he supposed to just sit here while Ron slept? He shifted uncomfortably.

Hermione exchanged a long look with Harry, who gave her an approving nod. Approval for what, Draco could not tell. But before he could ask, her mouth was on him and her tongue was probing into his mouth. 

Draco moaned against her lips, sucking her in. His desire felt like a dam that had been broken and unleashed. The passion Draco felt for her in that moment was unparalleled, and he poured it all into their kiss.

When Hermione finally released his mouth, he found himself panting for breath and staring up at her in bewildered puzzlement. He could drown happily in those brown puppy dog eyes of hers.

“But… but what about Potter?” he asked, looking to Harry. 

Harry just smiled. “Relax, Malfoy. You look like you could use a good poking.”

Draco’s eyes widened. What did exactly did _that_ mean?

“And Weasley?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

“Oh, don’t worry about Ron.” Hermione giggled. “He’s too pissed to care. Besides, this isn’t a new proposition, at least not for us.”

“It isn’t?” Draco asked. 

“No, we’ve done this before, so I don’t think Ron would mind,” she reassured.

“Perhaps he would,” Harry corrected. “It is Malfoy, after all.” 

“Which is why he drank until he passed out,” Hermione pointed out. 

“You’re probably right about that,” Harry agreed.

Draco was floored. They had known all along this was where the evening was headed! Is that why Weasley had been so prickly? And did he really drink to pass out to avoid participating? 

Draco tried to wrap his mind around it. She said they had done it before with others. He knew the effects of war often screwed people up, and that perhaps the Golden Trio wasn’t so perfect and well-adjusted after all, but this was outrageous! They were a bunch of bloody perverts!

Still, as much as the thought of a foursome was supposed to repulse him, Draco’s prick was quite intrigued and rock hard.

Hermione reached down and squeezed it, giving it a gentle pull through his trousers. “Mmm, Draco, you’re bigger than I’d imagined. Oh, Harry, may I, pretty please?”

Harry nodded his permission. “Sure, just make sure I can see everything.” 

Hermione smiled and then slid down the bed and onto the floor, kneeling before him. She quickly tugged at Draco’s belt and began to undo his trousers. He watched in suspended fascination as she expertly reached in and pulled out his hard pink cock. 

Draco could barely think straight. This was not happening. 

“I really didn’t really mean what I said before to Weasley, about not fancying you,” he said hastily, his breath coming in short pants. “I actually fancy you a lot.”

Hermione chuckled. “You’re almost as pickled as Ron.” 

As she began to stroke his penis, Draco moaned and nodded eagerly. “Yes, perhaps, but I’m also still quite perspicuous.”

Hermione’s eyes went dark with lust. “My, that’s a big word, Draco. Big words get me hot,” she purred. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I have loads more.”

“Really?" Hermione asked seductively, sliding her tongue out to lick along the underside of his penis. 

“Oh, gods, are you really going to play the pink oboe?” he asked.

Hermione smirked. “Only if you keep using big words,” she said as she began to tease his plums with her tongue.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “How do you like the word prurient? Some say I am that, you know.”

“Mmmm, yes,” Hermione hummed, rising up to take the head of his cock into his mouth. 

Draco’s eyelids fluttered and he sighed in pleasure. “And, uh… there’s pachyglossal and protuberant,” he moaned, grinding his hips upwards as her hot wet mouth tightened and sucked more of him in.

“Oh, fuck, Hermione, that’s phenomenal!”

He heard Harry snicker and felt the bed move. Draco opened his eyes and was stunned to see the Boy-Who-Did-Freaky-Things staring down at him like some sort of pillow biter. 

Did Potter want to trade places with his girlfriend?

An obscene picture of what that would look like pressed into Draco’s thoughts. He forced himself to pry his eyes away from Harry’s and gaze at Hermione’s bobbing head instead. As she continued to suck down harder and faster, he tried to wrack his brain for bigger words, but his mind had become a useless puddle. He petted her head approvingly as she began to also play with his bollocks and decided to just lay back and keep his pie hole shut while enjoying her talented tongue.

He moaned as she practically inhaled the full length of his penis. When he felt the head of his cock hit the back of her throat with increasing pressure, his eyes flew open once more. 

Harry had moved down so that he could hold Hermione’s hair back and guide her mouth up and down on Draco’s prick. Draco couldn’t rip his eyes away. This was the most perverse thing he had ever done, but the sight of Harry Potter encouraging Hermione Granger on as she swallowed his package was simply priceless.

“Show him that trick you do with your tongue, ‘Mione,” Harry whispered, reaching down to pinch a nipple through her shirt.

With the precision of a professional porn star, Hermione began to peel her tongue back and forth acrobatically over and against Draco’s penis.

It was positively splendid!

“Oh, Hermione, please let me fuck your pussy,” Draco begged.

But Hermione was set on her mission and wouldn’t stop sucking, teasing, licking.

“Please!” Draco continued to beg. “I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll pound that pussy of yours until your pleading for me to stop.”

There was a loud pop as Hermione’s mouth released Draco’s prick. She promptly stood up to rip her shirt and brassiere off, freeing her perky tits. They were even more perfect than Draco had imagined and were just begging to be played with. 

But before Draco could utter another word, a rougher mouth ploughed into his own, forcefully pushing its tongue down his throat. 

Was Potter really kissing him? It wasn’t half bad. Draco’s mouth became pliant and opening wider to play tongue swords with Harry while Hermione mounted him.

He moaned into Harry’s mouth as he felt Hermione’s tight wet pussy slide down his cock. He gripped her hips, even as Harry pushed his hand into Draco’s hair. Draco pushed up into Hermione while Harry moved down to nip at his neck. 

Draco opened his eyes and watched as Hermione’s perfect breasts bounced up and down with each thrust. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to twist, pull and pinch them. She moaned and threw her head back, and Draco gasped when he felt the smooth head of a pecker poking at his lips. 

“Open up, Malfoy,” Harry pressed.

He had never sucked cock, but right now, being inside of Hermione’s pussy as she rode him like a pony was a dream, and he was open to trying anything as long as he didn’t have to wake up.

He kept his eyes shut as Harry’s prick slid between his lips and over his tongue. He tried to perform fellatio to the best of his novice ability, mimicking what Hermione had done, but Harry’s prick was so thick and long and it was hard to concentrate with Hermione riding him.

Draco looked up to see if what he was doing was pleasing. Harry smiled encouragingly, pushing more of his length in Draco’s mouth. Draco’s eyes went wide as he tried to gasp for air. Having something so large in his mouth felt so foreign but not entirely unpleasant.

Hermione pussy clenched and then released and then clenched again and Draco sputtered around Harry’s cock. 

Merlin, this woman was brilliant! She shagged like a seasoned prostitute! But it was even better because she wasn’t. She was Hermione Granger, and she had chosen _him_ , Draco Malfoy, of all people to share her bed, pussy, and boyfriend’s cock with. 

As Draco tried to keep up with Harry fucking his mouth, Hermione twisted and bucked against him impatiently. “Come on, Draco. Do it,” she urged. “Punish me with your cock.”

Draco hands clenched into Hermione’s hips as he began to propel himself up inside of her at a furious pace even as Harry’s prick hit the back of his mouth. He tried to pretend his throat had no end and relaxed it to accept more. 

Above him, Draco heard Harry groan, “Malfoy, fuck… Malfoy…” before stilling. And then hot salty come poured down Draco’s tongue and filled his thoroughly fucked mouth. Harry slipped out and plopped onto his back. 

It was just him and Hermione now. He pushed; she pushed back. He pulled and she took everything he had. Draco didn’t want it to stop but he could feel his bollocks tightening and the pressure rising. When Hermione began trembling and crying out his name, pronouncing it slowly as if in sacred praise, Draco let go of everything.

“Hermione!”

It was the most powerful climax he’d ever had, and it shook him to the core. When he finally peeled his eyes open, Hermione was still propped on his prick, smiling down at him.

“That was…”

“Pretty fantastic,” she finished.

Draco nodded and then looked to his side at Harry, who was passed out. 

“I can’t believe I let him…”

“Did you enjoy it?”

He swallowed, feeling the remains of Harry’s semen slide down his tongue. “Sorta,” he admitted.

“Good,” Hermione said, dismounting from him.

She rested her head on Ron’s bum, and Draco moved closer to cuddle with her. “Next time, I’m going to paddle that pert little arse of yours first,” he said.

“You’ll have to get Ron’s permission to do that. He probably won’t be passed out next time. Unless, of course, you want to wait a full year until next Saint Patty’s day.”

“No way, I’m not letting Weasley or Potter come between me and you. If I have to suck Potter’s prick or make nice with Weasley, then that’s just what I’ll do. You’re mine now, too.”

Hermione smiled and then snuggled closer. They lay together in peaceful silence until Hermione broke it hesitantly. 

“Draco, would you suck Ron off like you did Harry? I’d like to see that… Draco? Draco?”

This was a critical moment. The girl of his dreams had just made him a proposition to see just how far he would go to please her. It was absolutely paramount that Draco did nothing to place their new fragile relationship at risk. And so he responded the only way he knew how.

He pretended to sleep.


End file.
